


Mistakes, Promises and Compromises

by Dara999



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Dadsbury, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dara999/pseuds/Dara999
Summary: A dadsbury AU. Webber was promised that he would find the man who broke his mother’s heart so he could make them fix it. It seemed like a simple enough request. He knew little to nothing about the man, in fact it was only recently he had discovered any trace of them. Previously all he had was fragmented memories.





	1. Why did it have to be spiders?

**Author's Note:**

> Author note: While this is based on cannon material I have taken creative liberties here and there. This does not reflect Klei’s wish for the lore.
> 
> I also have other ideas for Webber's I might write about one day.
> 
> Thanks to the _old_ -buddy who helped me brainstorm the early ideas for the fic.

Spiders were the absolute worst, a monstrosity of nature; too many eyes, too many legs and they could bite with horrifically long and unsightly fangs. They were bad enough at home but this, this was just disgustingly unfair. These spiders were the size of dogs, with a jaw filled to the brim with sharp teeth. Wilson hated having to collect resources from their nests but he took pleasure in their deaths. However this particular trip presented a human skull upon extermination of the nest. At first Wilson panicked and thought someone from back at camp had found themselves in the belly of this beasts but he had seen everyone just this morning so it couldn’t have been one of them, right? The scientist picked up the skull and grimaced. “Ew, there’s still spidery bits on it.” Upon closer inspection the skull’s size and development suggested it was from a child, the only child he knew of was Wendy. There were issues with that however. Number one Wendy went in the opposite direction with Wickerbottom only a day before, two, the stage of decomposition would not line up if Wendy had died and three, the skull showed featured that aligned with a male skull rather than a female’s. Had there been a child that came through the Florid Postern while they were distracted with other matters and been killed without anyone’s knowledge? A sinking feeling ate away at Wilson’s stomach. How lost and scared must have they been only to be torn to shreds by these vile creatures? The sinking feeling was replaced by one that boiled his insides. He would not allow these monsters to take any more unknowing lives. Taking his spear Wilson destroyed what was left of the spider nest, leaving no trace of what was once there. They needed the nest to farm silk and glands but Wilson refused to even consider leaving the nest for taking a lone, young child’s life.

They wouldn’t have even known there were other people here to help…

Wilson felt moisture on his cheek. Bringing a hand up to his face he discovered he was actually crying. With a sigh he wiped his face. Being with other people really had made him more attached to them. He used to live in solitude, away from the drama of social life he hated so much. Then he was forced into this survival situation and was even thankful for when he ran into Maxwell, the man who had brought him here in the damn first place. Then they tried to build a portal, just like before the Constant. Now they were a group of almost a dozen strong, with all manner of expertise. A group where they took care of each other and as much as he hated to admit he was attached to all of them, some more than others, but he didn’t wish to see anyone deceased for good.

 

A tap on the shoulder brought Wilson out of his musings with a startled shout, the man turned on his heels and clutched the weapon in his hand tightly. Standing behind him was a taller man with a pale face and red cheeks, a warm smile on his face. “Wes! You can’t sneak up on me like that!” Wes’s smile turned from a friendly one to an apologetic one but it soon turned to a frown as the other man extended a hand out to touch Wilson’s face. Recoiling from the touch Wilson wiped away the stray tears on his cheeks. “I’m fine. I just got lost in thought. I found something that… concerned me…” Wes moved his hands in a fashion that translated to language. Wes was a mute, he couldn’t even scream when hurt. Ms. Wickerbottom knew sign language and Wilson did once but forgot it after not using it for many years so he was rusty when they first attempted communication. But together they taught the whole camp how to communicate with the mime; all but Maxwell, but that was a separate issue all together.

‘What did you find?’

“I think it belongs to a little boy…” Wilson held the skull out to the Frenchman, the gross spider appendages still seemingly fused to the skull. Wilson felt tugging in his chest as the other man’s face became solemn while examining the object.

‘Wendy?’

“Oh no I saw Wendy going south yesterday, there’s no reason-” Wes held a hand out to silence him and shook his head.

‘Ghost.’ How he hated that word. Every death came what most survivors called a _ghost_ , some sort of residual life-force that could be ripped from the human body and harnessed to bring said person back to life. Ghosts were nonsense, insulting to Wilson’s very nature as a scientist, there was obviously a better explanation for what they were, he just… had to find out what that explanation was.

 

A man called Wolfgang was the first to die, surprising as he was their strongest member, not so surprising when you considered the fact he needed large amounts of food to maintain said strength. Wes and Wolfgang were the two who consumed the most, any survivor dreaded when the pair came to their camp after an expedition as there was likely to be no food left when they had their fill.

Everyone was distraught, Wilson didn’t have the means to revive him. No meat, no hair, no Prestihatitator. It seemed that, that was it for Wolfgang. Wendy, a young girl, didn’t seem fazed by the death. Wilson assumed it was because she was desensitised to death, her own twin sister was dead after all. Wendy’s sister Abigail was one of these so-called ghosts, only Wendy could understand the words she spoke and was also the only one Abigail followed. However, Wendy commented she didn’t understand why everyone was so upset, that Wolfgang was still here and that he said he “was scared of being floaty”. There was a moment of silence before she rolled her eyes and took something out of her pocket, a writhing mass of flesh and rope. She said it hadn’t worked for Abigail but maybe it would for Wolfgang, she urged for an empty space to take it before lights blinded them and the strongman was standing before them again. It was a miracle, a miracle of science. It seemed Wendy could see the life-forces of the fallen, whereas the others could not. Perhaps this young boy was wandering as a lost spirit, spirit being said as it sounded a little more professional than _ghost_.


	2. Not Entirely Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then it cried. 
> 
> It cried. 
> 
> Tears. 
> 
> Its wails sounded human.

* * *

“I don’t see anything Wilson.”

“Maybe we should check north east again in case they’ve cycled around.” Wilson almost fell as Wendy stopped suddenly in front of him, the girl turned and gave Wilson her signature dead-pan expression.

“We’ve been walking back and forth all day. Have you not noticed that the spine tingling feeling you get when someone dies is missing? I don’t think they’re here anymore. They’ve moved on, which we can’t do. I envy them.” A gut twisting feeling took hold of Wilson, a mixture of frustration and sadness that he knew all too well to be failure. He looked at the skull in his hands.

“I suppose we should give this a proper burial.”

“That would be the respectful thing to do.”

 

First thing the next morning wilson was off to the graveyard, the weight of a shovel over his shoulder.

“Oi Wilson!” Raising his eyebrow he looked back to see a young woman with charcoal coloured hair bounding up to him.

“Good morning Willow, how may I be of assistance?”

“I thought I’d tag along, you seemed more than kinda bummed last night. Wes is coming too, he’s just waiting for breakfast first. You shot up like a bat outta hell without waiting for anyone.”

“Ah yes, well, I want to get this task over and done with so we can get onto more pressing matters. We don’t have nearly enough grass gathered for winter for example.”

“Oh come on. Wes said you got upset when you found it!” The scientist frowned and could feel his cheeks burn up a little.

“He told you that did he?”

“You only really _talk_ to the two of us! Who else is he gonna talk to about you, not like he can tell Woodie or Maxwell you cried over a skull.”

“I don’t want Maxwell knowing I got upset over a skull.”

“Exactly. Don’t worry your secrets are safe with me.”

“That’s not really comforting.” For a woman of her stature she could give a firm punch when she wanted to, this one landed painfully on Wilson’s shoulder. “My point exactly! You can be a bully when you want to, you know that?” She only laughed at his scowl.

“Oh quit your belly aching. Let’s go dig a hole.”

 

Once the grave was dug Wes arrived at the graveyard. Wilson really didn’t understand why the two of them wanted to accompany him, he was just going to bury it and leave. He didn’t know the kid, what was he supposed to say? All he could do was give them the respect they deserved. Placing the skull into the grave he sighed. “Sorry kid. I hope you didn’t suffer.” Wilson looked back to his two friends, both giving a warm smile back.

“At least they don’t have to deal with this crap eh Wil?”

“I suppose.” Wilson looked down to the grave and begun to return the soil to its original location. Willow took a few steps forward and helped Wilson shovel the dirt. Once the task was done Wes placed a handful of flowers on top of the grave. Willow placed her hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it Wilson. What could you have done? No one knew about them, it can’t be helped.” Nodding, Wilson put his hand on top of hers. He just couldn’t get over how young the boy must have been, almost as old as… He shook his head. “You gonna be alright egghead?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. It’s… just a shame you know?” Wilson could hear Willow sigh and pull away from him, on the inside he wish she hadn’t moved, old memories were trying to resurface and he could use any distraction right now.

“Yeah… Let’s get back to camp, it looks like it’s gonna rain.”

“Right behind you.” As Willow begun to walk away Wilson found himself unable to stop staring at the grave until Wes waved a hand right in front of his face, flinching he gave the mime a scowl.

‘Not okay. What is wrong?’

“Nothing is wrong!”

‘Lie’

“I’m not lying! Let lightning strike me if I am!” The sky tore open and a blinding bolt of lightning stuck the ground, a roar of thunder grabbing the attention of all in earshot. Silence hung in the air like a thick fog, clearing only when Wes turned to Wilson, an eyebrow raised and arms crossed. “For the record, I said it had to strike me.” To be fair it had stuck the headstone of the fresh grave, not Wilson. The mine took out a stick and threatened to hit the scientist with it, Wilson held his hands up in defence. “You and Willow are both bullies! I’m a grown man! I refuse to allow myself to be pushed around like a child!” A sound stopped the taller man’s assault, a scratching sound, like a moleworm but bigger. The two men looked at each other and then back to the grave.

“HOLY SHIT! Fuck, that looked close! Are you two okay?!”

“Shhhhhh.”

“Don’t shush me! Geez! Sorry for giving a shit about you!”

“No Willow! Be quiet!” Even Wes put his finger on his lips to signal her to be quiet. Getting the hint this time she stood silently, listening for whatever sound they were worked up about. Sure enough the sound was still there, getting louder as the soil in the grave pulsed and shifted. Wilson took out a spear, adrenaline in his system starting the fight or flight response. Whatever was coming out of the ground could be dangerous, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

After what seemed like an eternity something emerged from the ground, something black and hairy. Whatever it was, was frantically clawing at the dirt. The motions were desperate and powerful. With each movement more of the soil was moved and the creature finally reared its head. It gasped for air, large fangs and sharp teeth on full view for the world to see. It was a spider. A zombie spider. But not just any zombie spider. No. As it pulled itself out of the earth he could see it was a big one too. The panic in Wilson’s system was reaching its peak, it was now or never. With the beast on its hands and knees Wilson swung his spear at it, however, the creature moved as he did so. The tip only just made contact, leaving a wound on its shoulder. Something was wrong. It wailed an unsettlingly tone, moving back until it was against the headstone. It put one of its appendages on the wound, eyes full of fear, pale orbs flickering in their sockets.

And then it cried.

It cried.

Tears.

Its wails sounded human.

Wilson felt something tug the spear out of his hands. His body was paralysed, he was not expecting this reaction. His brain was trying to process it but it just couldn’t. This was not normal spider behaviour. He looked over to Willow, she had his spear and seemed as confused as he was. Wes broke the stand still, moving towards to creature with wide open hands.

“NO!” It screamed, cowering. Putting his hands out in front where it could see them Wes took out a balloon. Wilson had seen Wes make balloons before, it was his niche, every survivor had one. Within seconds there was a bright red balloon floating in the air, tied by a string in Wes’s hand. He extended his hand offering the item to the creature. It looked at him and then to Wilson, tears still streaming from its eyes. Wes took the creature’s hand, getting a flinch in response, placing the balloon into it. It’s wailing wavered for a moment, turning into stifled sobs. Wes picked it up, holding it in his arms.

Wilson could feel his stomach churn as the pieces starting to make sense. The skull, the one he had just buried, the lightning had reanimated it, just like a touch stone. This wasn’t entirely a spider. This was a young boy. And he had just attacked them.


	3. Magic and Gizmos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webber, pre-Constant.

* * *

Webber was promised that he would find the man who broke his mother’s heart so he could make them fix it. It seemed like a simple enough request. He knew little to nothing about the man, in fact it was only recently he had discovered any trace of them. Previously all he had was fragmented memories.

 

When a truck full of odd objects pulled up to their home in the countryside Webber was thrilled, they had apparently come all the way from America. He ran down the stairs to watch some men bring it inside and down into the basement.

“Mum what’s that?!”

“Don’t touch anythin’ Webber. It’s dangerous junk. Alright?”

“I won’t touch anything! I just want to know what it is!”

“Bloody... Webber please, I don’t want to talk about it. Go play somewhere else.” With a frown the ten-year-old did as he was told. He just wanted to know what the stuff was and where it came from, was that so much to ask? He wasn’t allowed in his father’s study and now he wasn’t allowed in the basement, wasn’t this his house too?

 

Webber waited until his mother went to bed before making his way to the stairwell to the basement. He was just going to have a quick look, then he’d be up in bed before Mum even knew.

Flicking the light switch, Webber stood in awe at sight of the pieces of machinery and stacks of notes. He skimmed through the books. Inside them we’re far too many words and complex looking pictures, but he did like the pictures, even if they didn’t make much sense.

Webber didn’t know what the machines did, he imagined them combining to form a robot or maybe a rocket ship! The boy picked up another metal object, its surface was dull and gave a wonky reflection. A grin on his face, he pulled faces at the shiny surface, giggling at the distorted image. “You can be Mr. Potato.” Taking the object with him he went to something that looked like the drawbridge of a castle and a spooky castle at that. A sound made Webber jump. It sounded like the static noise their radio made when you looked for the channels. “H-hello?” Clutching the object in his arms tighter, Webber started to make his way back to the stairwell.

“Say pal, bet you’re wondering what this all is.”

“W-who’s there?!”

“Just a man who knows where everything here came from.” Webber wasn’t sure if the feeling in his chest was from him clutching the uncomfortable metal object in his arms so tightly or the fear from hearing a voice in their basement in the middle of the night.

“M-my mum said I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“She sounds like a wise woman. Here, I’ll introduce myself. I am Maxwell the Magnificent! What’s your name?”

“W-Webber.”

“Webber, Maxwell. Maxwell, Webber. We’re not strangers anymore are we?”

“I… I guess not… Where are you?”

“Just behind that door you walked past earlier.” Curiosity tugged Webber closer to the voice, adrenaline filling his bloodstream. “That’s it. Almost there.” Rounding the corner Webber didn’t see anyone, only some more bits and pieces. A round machine, a radio, a pile of paper. “Down here pal.” The boy flinched. The voice, it… it was coming from the radio. “Not what you were expecting?” Webber shook his head, words getting stuck in his throat. What could he say? ‘Nice radio?’ “Still a little confused. That’s fine, you’re a young boy after all.” He still couldn’t find the strength to talk. This Maxwell person seemed nice enough and they weren’t actually here so it’s not like they could hurt him. What could the harm in talking be?

“H-how did you get in the radio?”

“I’m somewhere far away, stuck. I could use your help.” He nodded slowly, getting a closer look at the radio. It seemed normal enough, a small box with knobs and a speaker. Not scary. With a deep breath he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“My grandpa likes to listen to the radio but it’s never talked like this before, why are you special?”

“This is a magic radio kiddo.”

“Magic? Can you make things disappear and appear and stuff?”

“Oh yes, that and more.” Webber felt excitement flutter though the adrenaline. Like any child, the idea of magic was thrilling. To be magician, watched by all, creating birds and rabbits out of thin air, so cool!

“C-can I see?”

“Of course, I just need your help.”

“Okay!”

“Webber Wiley Greasain!” Webber’s heart leapt into his throat, uh-oh. He glanced around, looking for somewhere he might hide from his mother. The rounded machine looked big enough for him to crouch behind, so the child shuffled as quietly as he could behind it. “I hear you talkin’ down here! Who on earth are you talkin’ to?!” Webber squeezes his eyes shut, hoping that she wouldn’t come in his direction. He usually did what he was told but right now he wanted to know more about this Maxwell person and about how he could help and he couldn’t do that from outside the basement. “I know you’re in here! Come out now this instant!” He could hear his mother looking around, moving bits and pieces around, trying to locate him. “GET OUT HERE NOW!” Webber couldn’t take it, he hated being yelled at, he hated it when he got in trouble, he hated it when he got punished for being naughty. He stepped out from his hiding place and looked to the radio, it was silent again. “Ya wee devil!” Webber felt his arm being pulled, his mother dragging him to the top of the stairwell. “Webber I told you not to go in there!” A hand connected with the back of his head, leaving a dull pain, he was in for it now. “Nothin’ in there is ours! The things down there could be dangerous!”

“Why do we have them then?! Why did the men bring it here if it’s not ours!”

“It’s been brought here temporarily! We’re givin’ it back to some family friends.”

“Why didn’t they come get it?”

“Because Webber, they just didn’t!”

“The radio said he knew wh-”

“Tha radio?! Webber! Don’t make up excuses!”

“I’m not!”

“Do ya think I like scoldin’ ya? That I like hittin’ you?”

“But the radio-!”

“Go to ya room.”

“Mum! Just go ask it!”

“Webber please! Just… go to your room.” Webber hated seeing his mother upset but he also hated being accused of lying, why wouldn’t she just believe him. Sure a magic radio sounded more than a little weird but it was true. Regardless, the child made his way to his room as to not upset his mother further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell is Pennywise confirmed.


	4. Hereditary Curiosity

While his mother was preparing lunch Webber made his way to the basement door, twisting the handle he found it had been locked. His friend in the radio needed help and now there was no possible way he could help them. He could try to find and take the key but Webber didn’t feel right even just thinking about stealing it. “Webber dear come eat your sandwich.” He scurried to the table and took a seat, hungrily taking the food.

“Sh-anks Mum.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. I’ve got a call to make, so please don’t disturb me, alright?” He nodded and smiled, important phone call? To who?! He would try to listen, they weren’t usually that interesting but he liked to know regardless. As she moved out of the dining room and into the hallway Webber scooted closer to the archway to listen.

“Connect me to the Higgsbury residence in Windsor please.” “Hello, is this the Higgsbury residence.” “It’s Quinn.” “Yes, one of the masters please.” “Good mornin’.” “It’s nice ta hear from you as well Catherine.” “It’s about... Wilson.” The last word was hushed, as if his mother knew he was listening and didn’t want him to. Who was Wilson? Was he important? “He’s been missing for a year.” “Missin’ as in his things just got shipped to my house because he wasn’t payin’ his bills.” “I need you to send someone to take it or I’m sellin’ it.” “It’s a long story, we had a dispute.” “We have an agreement on paper.” “America.” “Yes.” “If doesn’t matter what happened, we settled it. Do you want his stuff or not?” After a few moments Webber jumped as his mother slammed the phone down, ending the call abruptly. “Sticks up their arses, the lotta them.” His mother wasn’t one to swear, only when she got very frustrated. So obviously something had upset her. Was she talking about the stuff in the basement? By the time the child finished his sandwich his mother came back into the room, taking his plate to the sink.

“Hey Mum?”

“Yes hon?”

“Watcha gonna do with the stuff we got?”

“Sell it. There’s a scrapper ‘bout an hour from here.”

“Can I keep something?” His mother sighed, putting the now clean dish in the drying rack. She didn’t turn around or say anything, just that sigh. “Please?”

“I’ll think about it. I don’t know what any of the stuff does, it might be dangerous.”

“What about the radio.”

“Is that what you want?”

“You’ve got a radio and you always say I can't play with the nobs. Can I have this one for myself?” Looking over at her son, Quinn frowned. Taking a moment to think her face eased.

“Alright. But only the radio. Nothin’ else.”

“Thanks mum!” She gave Webber a warm smile, doubts still in the back of her mind. “Mum can I ask you something else?”

“Of course hon.”

“Why did the men bring all that stuff here?”

“Webber I told you, it’s not ours, we’re just hanging onto it.” Webber scowled and got off the chair. She wasn’t going to tell him so he might as well leave.

“You never tell me anything…”

“Webber that’s not true, I-“

“You said I couldn’t go into dad’s study! You won’t even tell me where he is!”

“You’re too young to understand! I’ll tell ya when you're older.” He huffed, yeah right. “What’s that face for?”

“You’re not gonna tell me anything!”

“Webber-” Before Quinn could finish Webber ran up to his room, she called after him but he ignored her. He just wanted to know what was going on, he would understand. Why couldn’t she just tell him?

 

~~~~~

 

Webber was drawing when there was a knock on his door, his mother opening the door a crack. “Dinner’s ready Webber.”

“Not hungry.”

“Come out hon.”

“Out of my room, no grown-ups allowed!”

“I brought the radio you wanted. Can I come in please?” Webber looked over to his mother, considering this trade.

“Okay...” His mother stepped inside and put the radio on his desk. She then sat on the boy’s bed and patted the space next to her, signalling for him to join her. Complying, Webber left his desk and sat next to his mother, who in turn put an arm around the boy tenderly.

“My boy… I’m sorry I don’t tell ya much but it’s really just grown-up stuff. I don’t like talking about it. It hurts. Can ya understand that?” Webber nodded and looked at the floor.

“Is he dead? You can say so if he is, I just wanna know.” She let out a scoff, wondering how her son had come to this conclusion. Webber however, faintly remembered someone being there with his mother and then vanishing suddenly.

“I’m not entirely sure hon. I’d be lying if I said I knew.”

“How don’t you know?”

“He didn’t stay here Webber.”

“Didn’t he like us? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no sweetheart! Ya did nothing. He just... He had to go.”

“Why?”

She tapped her finger against the young boy’s nose, giving a pained but warm smile.

“You be a curious young lad, too smart for ya own good too. Your father’s fault that is.” She brought the child into an embrace. There was a man she loved but her father would never approve of and then there was Webber’s father. At first, she was heartbroken because her young love was forbidden and then she was forced to marry the son of another aristocratic family due to falling pregnant out of wedlock. But as time passed she felt she was ready to let go of the fantasy she had about that man and began to become fond of the one she was married to. All she wanted was Webber to have a stable home, a safe home, a home with people who loved him. But then his father broke her heart, put Webber in danger, shattering the trust she had built. Webber heard his mother try to stifle a sob. He buried his face into her, clinging as tightly as he could. He didn’t mean to make her so upset, he just wanted to understand.

“M-maybe we can find dad? Would that make you happy?” His mother shook her head. “Why?”

“He’s a dangerous man Webber.”

“What do you mean?”

“Please, no more questions. I love ya Webber, but I can’t.” He pulled away and looked her in the eyes, they looked dark and sad, it made him want to cry as well. She placed a kiss on his forehead. “You’re a good boy Webber… come on. Let’s go eat and then maybe get the chef to make us dessert.” He nodded and the pair left for the dining room. A number of things were buzzing around Webber’s head. Why did his dad leave? This other man, (father of sorts he supposed) what did he do? Did he hurt his mother?


	5. Lazarus

It was dark and he couldn’t breathe, something inside screaming at him to claw at his environment. It was hard to move but he did. He kept his eyes shut and lashed out, whatever he was in was moving around him. Then his hand felt something else, an open space. That’s where he wanted to go. When Webber managed to pull himself out of the dirt he gasped for air. He felt so confused. Why did he wake up there? His head was spinning. Was someone talking to him? As he went to look up there was a sharp pain on his shoulder, someone was hurting him, **he should fight it** , but he didn’t want to. He backed up as much as he could, something hit his back. Where was he? Who were these people? Why did they want to hurt him? He just wanted to go home! The overwhelming emotion was too much for the ten-year-old, he burst into tears. His arm hurt and he wanted to go home! **He couldn’t take his eyes off the predators**. One of them moved toward him, he could bite or beg. The fear was too great, he couldn’t fight, they were much bigger. “NO!” He wanted them to go away! The person stopped and did something, he couldn’t quite tell what yet, he was too frightened to take the time to figure it out. But then there was a balloon, like from a fair. Why? What did they want? They reached out, **no, no, no, no touching**! They took his hand and made him hold the balloon. **Not aggressive**. They moved closer and picked him up. **He was safe**. He buried his face into the man, sobbing. He just wanted his mum.

Wes rubbed the child’s back, frowning at his tears. Poor kid. The mime looked at Wilson, angry at him for striking the child. He didn’t look so good himself, paler than usual. What could he do to settle the kid? Looking to Willow he moved closer, offering for her to take the boy from him so he could deal with Wilson, but she shook her head. She had no idea how to deal with kids! He scowled at her.

“H-hey! Hey kid! Calm down! You scared us is all...” He scared them?! Webber clung to the man holding him, what did he do to deserve to be scary? Wes rolled his eyes and started walking away from the other two. Wes didn’t know how to parent but he did know how to distract kids, it used to be part of his job after all. “Wilson didn’t mean it!”

Wilson felt another punch on his shoulder, snapping him out of his haze.

“What was that for?!”

“You coulda said something numbskull!” Wilson wanted to go after Wes, to treat the wound he inflicted but the thought of the boy’s… condition made him shudder. She sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “It had to be a spider… why not a bunny kid you know? Let’s go arachnophobe, we better tell the others about him.”

“I think I’m going to be sick...”

~~~~~

Webber noticed the fur on his hands and so the mime had to calm him again and show him his reflection. Wes then took Webber to a meadow and wove the child a garland. Webber didn’t quite understand how he had ended up this way, he remembered seeing spiders but his memory was scattered like the pieces of a puzzle. He didn’t really mind, the only thing he really didn’t like was that he scared people. He didn’t want to scare people. Then there was the voice he was hearing, although it wasn’t quite a voice, but it also was. It felt like a thought, but not his own. Was this the animal’s thoughts?

As the sun begin to set Wes took Webber’s hand, pulling him up from his seat in the grass. The boy wanted to ask where they were going but the man didn’t say much, he didn’t say anything at all really. After walking for a fair distance Webber saw structures, parts of a wall and what looked like tents. Was this where the mime lived? The closer they got the more he saw, there were people there as well. His heart started racing again. **Harm. Flee.**

Wes noticed the child holding his hand stopped walking so he glanced down, seeing the same fearful look from before. With a sad frown he pushed the balloon down so the child could grab it. They looked up at him and he gave a reassuring smile, they hugged the balloon. The action caused it to pop. So the boy had claws, nice to know.

Webber looked up at the mime, worried he might be offended, instead he squeezed the boy’s hand and shrugged. Feeling emotions well up inside of him again he clung to the man’s leg.

Meanwhile Wilson was fidgeting nervously as the inevitable return of the spider boy approached. A distant bang gained the attention from all at the camp. In the distance stood Wes and the small darker figure of the boy.

“Alright, they’re coming. Remember best behaviour Wendy.”

“Yes Ms Wickerbottom.”

“You too Wilson.”

“M-me? I told you it was an accident!”

“He’s probably going to be apprehensive of you. We don’t know his temperament yet, if he lashes out I don’t want you to retaliate.”

“I felt bad enough the first time!”

“I’m just cautioning you.” He huffed and crossed his arms. He didn’t realise it was part human. He wouldn’t have hit it if he knew. Why were they treating him like a loose cannon?

As the pair approached the camp Webber ensured to stay firmly attached to Wes’s leg, refusing to face any of the people in front of him.

“Hello young man. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ms Wickerbottom.” **Stay hidden**. The boy squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he couldn’t feel the multiple pairs of eyes looking at him. “We’re not going to hurt you. There’s no need to be shy.”

With the child refusing to move the elder woman looked at Wes, who only gave a shrug in return. “You like Wes I see. He’s a very nice man. Did he make you that flower crown?” Wes? So that was his name. Taking a deep breath the boy nodded. He liked the flowers… “Would you like to meet someone else I think you’ll like?” He did. Swallowing the fear inside, he peaked out at the group. There was an old lady, a little girl and those people from before. **Danger**. The elder lady gestured for the little girl to speak.

“My name is Wendy. My sister Abigail and I look forward to playing with you.” She glanced up at the older lady and then back to Webber. “Is it still alive? The spider?”

“That’s enough Wendy.”

“I was just curious…”

“I suppose I better say a proper hello.” The woman in a red shirt from before moved from poking the fire pit with a stick and closer to the boy. “I’m Willow, sorry for scaring you back there. No hard feelings?” Webber blinked at her. They were all being very nice to him… He moved further from his hiding spot, glancing up at Wes as he did so.

“Then that just leaves you Higgsbury. Come along.” With a sigh Wilson moved forward, keeping more distance than the others.

“I… I’m Wilson… and I am so sorry… p-please… allow me to treat the cut I gave you as an apology.” Wilson took another step forward and Webber let out a hiss, causing the scientist to flinch. Webber didn’t mean to hiss, he really didn’t, it just happened.

“S-sorry!” Diving back for Wes’s legs, the mime grabbed his arms to stop him. Webber didn’t want to talk anymore! He wanted to hide! Webber reared his teeth at Wes, realising moments later, mortified at himself. “L-let us go! I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Hey kid.” Webber’s eyes flickered over to Willow, trying not to let tears escape. “Take a deep breath. No one’s gonna hurt you and you’re not gonna hurt anyone. I used to be scared of hurting people too. If you ask me Wilson deserves a bite for what he did, you’re not going to bite him though, you seem like a good kid.” These words made Webber stop struggling against the mime’s grip, the man in turn let the boy go. She took something out of her pocket and offered it to him. A teddy bear. He looked at her, cocking his head a little. “You can borrow him for the night. His name’s Bernie. You gotta take good care of him though.” She waved the bear in front of him as he stared at it. “Come on.” Hesitantly taking the bear Webber clutched it tightly, it smelt like the firepit back home. “You gonna let Wilson fix you up now?” Willow saw the apprehension in his eyes as he looked at the scientist. “Bernie’s real brave, he’ll make sure Wilson doesn’t hurt ya.” With a nod Webber let Willow guide him to sit beside the firepit. Wilson moved slowly to sit next to Webber, keeping his eyes locked with the hybrid’s.

 

Wilson was slightly terrified of the child, he felt as if it could turn and bite him at any moment. Then again, Willow was right, he deserved a bite at least. Besides, he had shown mostly human behaviour and when he didn’t it was because it was under stress, as long as Wilson didn’t scare the child he shouldn't bite.

“Th-this is going to sting but the stinging means it’s working.” Dipping his pointer and index finger into the pink paste of the healing salve, he smeared it into the cut on the boy’s shoulder. The flesh was a burgundy colour rather than red or pink, interesting to say the least. He winced when the boy snarled as he applied the salve, watching the long fangs and their location.

Webber squeezed his eyes shut and squeezed the bear in his arms. **Pain!** The urge to claw and bite washed over Webber, but he thought back to when his mother would wash his boo-boos and they would sting. It was just what happened when you cleaned them. “Done. You did well-uh-" Wilson faltered for a name, not remembering one being mentioned.

“Webber...” Wilson froze, a plethora of memories he had tried to bury for so many years began resurfacing.

“W-Webber Greasain?” Webber turned his head, looking at the man curiously.

“Yes. How did you know mister?” There were no words for what Wilson felt. Every emotion from ecstasy to regret filled his mind, clambering over one another in a frantic mental mess. Dropping the remaining healing salve Wilson wrapped his arms around Webber, pulling him into a tight hug. Webber on the other hand was caught off guard by the sudden movement. **Defend!** Without thinking the child opened his mouth and sunk his fangs into the shoulder of the man. **Flee!** He attempted to pull away from his grasp but the arms held him tightly.

Wilson felt the sharp objects dig into his shoulder but he didn’t move. How old must the boy have been when he last saw them? They should be ten years now, so almost a decade. He obviously didn’t remember Wilson, it had been too long and he had been too young. Did his mother tell stories about him? If she did, she probably painted him as a villain. Would Webber want to know who he was? He let go of the boy, now acutely aware of the pairs of eyes staring at him. A wave of shame overcame him, causing him to stand and make a bee-line for his tent.

Webber was confused and upset. He had bitten the man, not only that but they hugged him out of nowhere. He clung to the bear in his arms, flinching when Wickerbottom but her hand on the boy’s shoulder to comfort him. Willow sighed.

“I’m gonna have to go talk to him, aren’t I?”  
“We can attempt to send Wes but I don’t think the information will be as concise. I also think his talents are best with, Webber was it?” The mime moved over to the boy and gave Willow a wave, the woman rolling her eyes in response.

 

Willow went to the scientist’s tent, clearing her throat to announce her presence before entering. The man was curled up, knees held against his chest as he sat. Taking a seat next to him only caused him to recoil. “So... That was weird.” Nothing. “You wanna tell me what that was about?” He shook his head. “Wilson, don’t be like that. There are no secrets between friends. ‘Specially not out here.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He glanced at the firestarter from the corner of his eye.

“I... I need time...”

“What the fuck Wilson, come on! You hate spiders but you gave this kid a hug, even when he bit you! You even knew his name?” He ran a hand through his hair, why did she have to pick him apart? “You owe us at least how you know him.”

“He’s... He’s my son.”

“What?! Bullshit! No way! Our little nerd ain’t a virgin?!”

“It was an accident! A-a mistake. I was just kicked out of medical school...” He shook his head, putting it in his hands. “I made a huge mess out of that night, I don’t even remember any of it. I thought they were just punishing me by making me marry, getting rid of me. There was enough evidence for me to actually believe what happened when I watched him grow up...”

“Geezus Wilson. Why are you freaking out then? I guess the spider bit is kinda freaky…”

“It’s not that…”

“Then what is it?” Wilson refused to look her in the eyes. “What did you do?” She knew him too well. “ _Wilson. What did you do_?”

“P-please. Give me a moment. It’s... a long story...”


	6. Til Death Due Us Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter on doubts and plans to compromise.

* * *

His mother was fixing the suit he had on, smoothing out any (non-existent) creases she could find. “This marriage feels rather 17th century, there’s no reason for me to be forced into this.”

“Wilson we’ve talked about this. It’s a small private event, your father and her father insisted.”

“The grounds on which you’re accusing me are preposterous!”

“You dropping out of medical school is preposterous! We were really hoping you would grow up Wilson, grow out of this obsession you have. Maybe this is what you need.” She tightened his bow tie harshly. “Some responsibility.”

“Tch…”

“Don’t tch at me Wilson. This is entirely your own fault.”

“I didn’t do anything! For all we know this woman is lying!”

“That’s enough Wilson! You’re marrying this woman and you are going to behave yourself!”

“That child is not mine! I would never do such a thing!”

“You made a mockery out of us all that night! Not only that but the both of you vanished. That woman has a blue-eyed little boy a year later?! The Greasains, your father and I have already had many heated discussions about this!” Wilson only let out a sigh. What was he supposed to do? The only way he could prove to them that this had nothing to do with him was to find out from the source.

~~~~~

Wilson couldn’t stop fidgeting at the altar, the woman he supposedly had impregnated stood beside him; white adorning her and covering her features. What on earth would he say to her once they were alone? His things were all packed and ready to be taken to Scotland as soon as this was over. It was going to be a long trip... Wilson felt separated from himself, as if he were just watching the events unfold. The vows were repeated, ‘I do’s said, rings placed on one another. Before he knew it, he was saying goodbye to his family and getting into the carriage. The sound of hooves on gravel was all that could be heard as they left the estate.

 

This wasn’t how Quinn imagined her wedding. She imagined something extravagant, a celebration of love and union. Instead she got a small gathering of family and shame. When she realised what had happened, she had half the mind to abort the thing; but there were significant risks involved with that. First there was her own health, then the burden of keeping it hidden; from her family, from her friends, from the church... Her next plan was to give the baby away, pretend it was never hers; but once she actually gave birth... There was no way she’d willingly let go of such a gorgeous little thing. Once she refused to give it up, there was only really one thing to do; reveal the father and pray the situation would sort out so she could keep her child. She knew exactly who the father was; there was only one person it could be. Nine months prior to the birth there had been an event at the Higgsbury’s, an event where she got hopelessly intoxicated. That was the cause of this. Her own stupidity.

 

There must have been at least half an hour of silence before Quinn got fed up with nothing being said. She kept looking at him, wondering if that would prompt some reaction but he just avoided her gaze, hands firmly in his lap.

“Say something!”

“What do you want me to say?” With an exacerbated sigh she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Never mind.” Wilson couldn’t help but feel a little guilt. Even if this wasn’t his fault, he could see that she was as miserable as he was. Maybe they could both make the best out of this.

“You look very beautiful Miss Greasain.” She scoffed, a little flattered, but far too bitter over the entire situation to show it.

“Didn’t ya pay attention? It’s Mrs Higgsbury now.” Wilson twiddled his thumbs, trying to piece together a sentence. Socialising was never his forte, he found it difficult to read rooms sometimes and even more so to find the right words to say. This was torture...

“Miss Greasain. I didn’t want this as much as you do. I don’t expect you to act like you are happy about this, because I can tell you’re not and neither am I.”

“Great. We’re in agreement that this is a completely loveless marriage then. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together!” He turned to look at her, concern in his face. She seemed furious. Rightly so really... But what could he do?

“I can’t fix this. I don’t know what you want me to do.” She let out another huff, looking out the window for a few minutes before turning back to Wilson.

“… Ya know… Not once have you taken responsibility for ya own damned child. Not in the few months our parents have been workin’ out this damned situation.”

“Well. It’s not my child.”

“Yes it is!”

“I’m sorry but there’s no way I would engage in such an activity.” Quinn’s face screwed up at him, _if looks could kill._ Suddenly a hand came out and stuck Wilson’s cheek. His eyes widened as the stinging sensation grew.

“STOP THE CARRIAGE.” The vehicle slowed and the newlywed woman threw open the door, stepping out.

“W-where are you going?”

“I’m WALKING home!”

“Miss Greasain!”

“ _It’s **Higgsbury**_!” She pulled off a shoe, pelting it at the carriage and then took off the other. “Whether we like it or not!” This one narrowly missed Wilson’s head.

“Quinn, there’s no way you’re walking to Scotland!” Wilson followed the woman out, a scowl on her face.

“Watch me ya pompous prick.” A necklace flew through the air, landing ungracefully in the mud.

“I won’t get back in! Just… get back in please. I’ll wait for the next carriage or something. Okay?” Quinn huffed and pushed past him, climbing back to her seat and shutting the door. With a sigh Wilson went to the driver, taking a seat next to him. Without a word the carriage began to move again.

There was an aching feeling in her chest and a boiling in her gut. Quinn just wanted to scream and lash out at the man. But this was as much fault hers as it was his. She was the one who chose to keep it. She had started to encounter. She just wished he would acknowledge his own son. She didn’t want to raise him on her own. She just wanted Webber to have a father figure. She was scared. She hardly knew Wilson. What if he just ignored them the whole damned marriage? If she was caught with another man by her father, they would have her head. What if Wilson got angry at Webber or herself? Was he violent? Was he a coward? Would he even care about either her or his child?

Wilson felt hollow as the sound of sobbing reached his ears. Quinn really did look beautiful; he meant that... He didn’t want to be forced to marry her, especially knowing she would be much happier with the man of her own choosing. If it were up to him, they wouldn’t be here. They would work something out, for both their sanity’s sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post another chapter until I had more written but there were threats involving rats and a banjo? I'm frightened. (I will be writing more on domestic and survival stuff but y'all gotta be patient cuz vamp wilson's hot rn and I'm a ho for him.)


	7. A Favour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank a few people for supporting me. TriCat, ThatWolfNyla and CawAreYouDoing. Thanks for the regular feedback. <3 I'd also like to thank everyone who's commented on any of my fics.

* * *

Webber was asleep when the radio turned itself on, the crackling of static filling his room. The young boy’s eyes fluttered open at the sound, a groan coming from his throat. “Wha?”

“Sorry to wake you kid.”

“Mr Maxwell?”

“The one and the same.” Webber sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. What time was it?

“You gotta be quiet Mr Maxwell, can’t have mum coming in.”

“You’re right. Can’t have her interrupt us again.”

“What did you need help with mister?” The boy reached across his bedside table, grabbing the radio and holding it in his lap.

“Something of mine is a little broken. I need it fixed.”

“What thing?”

“My door. You walked past it earlier.” He did? The only door he remembered passing were the ones in his own home. “It’s a large wooden and metal door. Like-”

“The drawbridge!” The fog of sleep was starting to lift. Now he remembered the drawbridge thingy he saw in the basement. That was some kind of door after all!

“Yeah. My drawbridge needs fixing. Then, I’ll owe you a favour. Tit for tat.” With a yawn the boy nodded, sounded easy enough. He wasn’t a mechanic but he could try. Then again, he wasn’t actually allowed inside the basement. He couldn’t do much if he wasn’t allowed in the room.

“Mum’s banned me from the basement and the door’s locked mister.” There was a moment of silence. Did Mr Maxwell leave again?

“You’ll have to find the key. No key, no door. No door, no help.”

“I can’t take the key mister…” Not from his mother. She was furious with him just being down there in the first place. To not only disobey her once, but twice and steal? If Webber ever wanted dessert or to go play with his friends again then he couldn’t do that. “Mum was mad enough when she found me down there the first time. I can’t help you.”

“How about I help you first? Then you can help me.”

“I don’t need any help mister.”

“Surely there’s something you want kiddo. Maybe something for your mother?” Webber hadn’t thought about that. He wanted to know more about the mysterious figures in his life. Who his father was and where he went. Was the man who owned all the stuff in the basement his father? How did he hurt his mother?

“Do you know who my father is? Is he the one that hurt mum?”

“Double barrelled question there. I know your father, he’s the same man that made my door and hurt your dear mother.”

“Who is he? Can he make mum not sad again?”

“You can meet him yourself if you help me.”

“But I can’t fix your door mister.”

“Then there’s nothing more I can do for you.”

“No please! I want to know about dad!” The radio was silent, no static, nada. Webber shook it, desperation in his eyes. “Please sir!” Nothing at all. Webber huffed. It was rude to leave like that!

 

He tried to go back to sleep, he really did, but he couldn’t. Webber found himself creeping into his mother’s room instead. All the important things were kept in the draw by her bed, if there was going to be a key it would be there. Hopefully… Holding his breath, the ten-year-old carefully slid the draw open. The wood groaned and he winced, looking over at his sleeping mother. Her breath was regular and slow. Still asleep. Squinting in the inky-darkness he gently groped around for something key shaped. There were piles of paper, candles and a few odds and ends within the draw. Where was the key? Webber’s hand brushed against something cold, a shout almost escaping him as he pulled out a small brass object. This was it! The young boy slipped out of his mother’s room and grabbed the radio, heading to the basement.

The door closed behind the ten-year-old with a soft click and Webber turned on the lights. Like magic, the lights flickered to life. His mother would always tell him how she grew up without electricity. How she would have to manage candles and lanterns, watching how much of them she used. Webber couldn’t imagine it, he always slept with a nightlight on in the corner of his room. To have to sleep in the pitch black? It didn’t sit well with him. The dark was scary.

“Alright Mr Maxwell, I’m in the basement. Now what?” The boy sighed as he was met with silence. Was he gone forever? Movement caught his eye, a blur in the corner of his vision. The basement was quiet, too quiet. Webber suddenly didn’t want to be there anymore. A panic begun to well up inside him; the sensation of eyes watching him making his heart pound. He was used to his own company, they lived in a semi-remote area and his friends only saw him occasionally. But this was too much. It was dark outside; he was doing something that could get him in huge trouble and his friend in the radio was gone. He had no idea how to fix the drawbridge anyway Why did he go down here?! Something metal clattered to the ground just out of sight. Morbid curiosity tugged at him from the very back of his mind. “H-hello?” Webber wasn’t sure if someone answering him would be better than silence… a few tense moments passed and the boy let out a shaky sigh. There was absolutely nothing there, he was scared of nothing. There was no such thing as monsters. The child muttered those words over and over; something his mother had said when he found himself frightened of the dark.

Plastering on a brave face, Webber went over to the piles of paper, surely there was a clue somewhere in these pictures. There were strange structures, honeycombs with bits of the alphabet on them, some rats with weird shapes on their belly. Just as the child was about to give up, a piece of paper was disturbed. Webber grabbed it before it made its way into some forgotten corner. “I got it!” Thank the draft because it found the drawbridge for him, now all he had to do was understand the pictures. They were some pieces missing from the picture, he’d work on finding those first!

 

It took him a while to find the missing pieces among the clutter, but he did it! A valve had fallen off, along with some springy bits. Webber did his best to make it look exactly like the pictures. Once everything was in place, he took a moment to step back and cock his head at the structure. Why did Maxwell want this fixed? What did it do? Webber ran his hand over the metal, it felt cold, but not just that, no, it sent a shiver down his spine. “Mr Maxwell, I fixed it. Can you help me now? Please?” The radio crackled and the boy’s heart skipped a beat.

“Well done. I knew you could do it. You have to test it now.”

“Can you please just tell me who hurt mum so I can get them to fix it? I don’t like it down here.” The boy swore he kept seeing shapes ducking in and out his vision.

“I can do even better, remember? I can show you, all you have to do is pull the lever on the drawbridge over there.”

“How’s that going to show me who it is?”

“It’s magic.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.” Putting the radio down, Webber took hold of the lever. Maybe he should wait until his mother could watch or maybe one of his friends, they could work together. “Hurry up and pull the switch!” The sudden snappy tone made the young boy jump and look back at the radio with a scowl.

“Don’t yell at me!”

“Webber?!” The child’s eyes widened. That was his mother. She was going to be furious. He was going to be in one heck of a lot of trouble.

“Last chance kid. If you pull that switch your mother won’t have to worry about you asking about your father ever again.” Webber looked between the radio and the door. Getting in trouble would be worth it if he could find out who hurt his mother and made them fix things. So, he pulled it. Gears whirred and sparks flew off of the structure. It increased in size, folding out like some nightmarish lawn chair. Fear swept through the child as a face looked down at him with a wicked grin. Everything seemed to stop. Something grabbed Webber by the leg and he screamed. An inky hand had emerged from the ground, followed by another that grabbed his arm.

“MUM!” Words were whispered into his ears, shapes darting around the room. His world spun and faded to black.

~~~~~

Quinn stirred from her sleep with the sound of voices. Probably Webber having a dream or nightmare. The half-asleep mother swung her legs out from the bed and made her way down the hall to her son’s room. The door was already open, the soft glow of his nightlight revealing the empty bed within.

As if someone had slapped her across the face, Quinn was suddenly awake.

Her son was not in bed. Then his voice came from elsewhere in the house, a shout. “Webber?!” She thundered out of the room, making her way down the hall. The sound of heavy machinery began to echo through the halls; causing her to quicken her pace. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she could see the light of the basement coming from under the door. Her boy screamed, shouting for her. All that mattered was getting down there. She skipped steps on her way, almost falling flat on her face more than once. Throwing open the door, she heard the sound of shattering glass, something in the room powering down, the radio crackling on the ground. “Webber?” Thoughts began to race through her mind, climbing over one-another in a jumbled mess. “Webber?!” The mother’s attention went to the window, had someone or something been in here? Did her baby go out the window to avoid her? “Webber! Please! Say something!” Quinn began to rummage through the junk in the room, casting anything large enough for her child to hide behind to the side. “Webber! Please come out! I’m not angry!” He wasn’t here. Running to the window she looked out. No blood, no cuts. That was a good sign, right? But... Did someone take him? He had screamed for her. The gap was large enough to fit though. _Oh god someone had taken her baby._ Her heart was pounding in her chest; she needed to look for him outside.

Quinn ran as fast as she could up the staircase and to the front door. The air outside was cold but not frigid, yet Quinn quivered like a leaf in a hurricane. “Webber!” The stone turned to grass as she walked further into the yard, moist earth giving way underfoot. “Webber?!” She just wanted her baby to be okay. She NEEDED to know he was okay. “WEBBER?!” There was a vast expanse of nothing. Maybe she was over reacting. Maybe he was just hiding in the house. Turning on her heel, Quinn made her way back inside. One of the maids had woken up and was looking at her master, perturbed. “Webber, honey! Please come here! You can have as much dessert as you want if you do!”

“Ma’am, might I ask what’s the matter?”

“F-find my boy Mary.” Concern filled the young maid’s face but she stood still, unsure of how to respond. “NOW MARY!” Soon both women were running from room to room, waking up the few members of staff to aid in their search.

 

Quinn searched in a hysteric frenzy, tears streaming from her eyes; it took all three of the maids to force her to sit down as they contacted the authorities. How could her boy vanish like that? He mentioned a voice on the radio. Someone must have taken him. He had screamed for her and she only glanced outside. She should have looked harder, she should have run out further, find whoever took her baby boy. Her poor Webber, scared and alone, with a stranger. Maybe it was Wilson. What did he want with her boy? What would he DO with her boy?! Anger and fear whirled inside her gut. Whoever did this would be sorry, sorry they ever messed with her sweet boy. **_She’d mount their fucking head over the fucking mantle._ ******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I've had a hella of a rough time the last 2 weeks. I needed to take some me time as well as focus on studies.


	8. Symbiosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mutualism, commensalism or parasitism?

* * *

Webber was sure they were going to be angry at him for biting the man but no one said anything; in fact the old lady gave him a cookie. The young boy gnawed on it as the woman and the mime showed him the camp. They had everything; an icebox and a crazy machine like the one he saw in the basement, a bunch of farms, a big camp fire, a place to sleep. It was cosy for being outside.

It took Webber a few tries to remember everyone’s name, the panic in his system slowly fading. He was still on edge, every breeze made the voice in his head snap to attention, hairs bristling all over his body. “Webber dear, focus on me.” Fingers clicked by his ear and he snarled as his head turned to the offender. It was a reflex, one that scared him. As soon as the elderly woman’s face registered in his mind, he covered his mouth and apologised. She only smiled at him and encouraged him to sit by the fire with the blonde girl from earlier. (He remembered her name! Wendy!) “Quite an eventful evening.” The scent of something delicious wafted through the air and it made the boy’s stomach rumble. Wes took a seat next to Webber and pat his back; causing the boy to nestle closer. “We'll sort all this out tomorrow after a good night’s rest. You can spend the night with whomever you like. I’m sure Wendy would appreciate a friend her age.” Glancing over at the girl, Webber noted her features. She was older than him from what he could tell and she didn’t like to smile. Was she sad? Webber didn’t want her sad. Being sad was no fun. Maybe she needed the teddy bear more than him.

“Miss Wickerbottom.”

“Yes dear?”

“A-am I in trouble for hurting Mr Wilson?”

“No, no. It was an accident.” The elder smiled at him and brought over a plate of what looked to be meatballs. **Hungry. Eat.** Grabbing the plate, he wolfed down the contents. He didn’t realise how hungry he had been; he forgot to use his pleases and thank you’s.

“Th-thank you!”

“Wonderful manners Webber. I’m sure you’ll be a delight around here.” Miss Wickerbottom went back to the food she was preparing, bringing more over to the others. **Food. Procure.** Before he knew it, he was reaching for Wes’s plate, only just stopping himself from taking it off the man’s plate. He couldn’t take someone else’s food! **Every one for themselves.**

“That’s stealing!” **Eat to survive.** “Sharing is caring!” Wes held the meatball out to Webber, giving him a smile. Why did that make him want to cry? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing these bad things? “No. No, no that’s yours. I-I'm not hungry.” **Competition. Outlast. Outlive.** The urge to take everything on the plate screamed at him. **They are weaker.** “Stop talking!”

“Webber. May I ask you something?” Wickerbottom was suddenly kneeling next to him, causing the ten-year-old to realise he was breathing much faster than before. He clung tightly to the toy Willow had given him earlier, trying to focus on the soft feeling of the stuffing inside the bear.

“Y-yes miss.”

“Who exactly are you talking to?”

“I...” Who _was_ he talking to? “I don’t know.”

“Can you ask them who they are?”

“W-who are you?” Nothing. Webber could feel his breathing begin to quicken again. **Threat?!** “W-where?!”

“Webber. Breathe.” Hands came towards his face and he bared his fangs. **Too close. Threat.** No. It was Wicker, she wasn’t a threat. The child brought his hands up to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. This had started ever since he woke up, what was happening? Where was the person talking? How were they making him do all these scary things like biting and hissing? Was he actually turning into the monster he looked like?!

“I believe it’s alive Miss Wicker.” Wendy’s voice was calm and soothing, like a gentle breeze. Peeking out from between his fingers, Webber looked towards her. “The spider is alive.” Wendy turned her gaze from the elder to Webber. “That or he’s schizophrenic.”

“Schizophrenia tends to be gradual rather than sudden and Webber seems quite frightened by it so I doubt it’s gradual.”

“W-whats skitzo-friendia?”

“Are they telling you to kill people Webber?”

“Wendy, not appropriate.”

“I’m just asking.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. Th-the voice is so scared of everything, whoever they are! I don’t want to do these things!”

“What things dear?”

“H-hurting people!” The boy’s words came out as a chocked sob. “T-they bit Mr Wilson…” As more sobs escaped his lips, Wes wrapped their arm around him. Wickerbottom took note of his language. They. It seemed Wendy was right, about the spider being a live that is. What exactly did that mean though? How were their two sentient beings in one body? Perhaps Wilson would have answers…

~~~~~

Wilson tried his best to run over the basics. How there was a drunken night and an arranged marriage. How that relationship grew and then deteriorated as The Great War reared its ugly head. Really, it was a bit of a mess; a ginormous mess. But he had grown to care for Webber in the short amount of time they spent together. He _was_ his son. It was undeniable. But now… it was impossible to recognise the child as the same one he left almost a decade ago. His messy copper hair had become replaced by a dark spidery exterior. The piercing blue eyes Wilson had given him were now blank, glossy orbs. How on earth did this happen? How did he get here? Why did he look like this?! Maybe Maxwell knew… he wasn’t nearby though; it would take a day of travelling to get to him…

“You still haven’t told me exactly what you _did_ to get this woman so absolutely pissed at you.”

“Please. I’m doing the best I can. This is… traumatic for me. I can’t believe he’s here. How… how did he end up here? What happened to him?”

“What, you didn’t give him the weird spider genes?~” The face Wilson pulled could only be described as a mix of annoyance, hurt and confusion.

“I realise that’s a joke but I would never wish spider genes upon anyone.” Willow’s bubbly laughter made Wilson feel better. (But only a little.) He was utterly perplexed and terrified. Where to go from here?

“So. What exactly do you want me to tell the others?”

“I don’t know Willow. I really have no idea. Maybe nothing for now. Just until I can process what’s happened. I might go talk to Maxwell.”

“Ugh.” He didn’t have to look at her face to know how disgusted her expression was. “He’s not going to be any help. You know that right?”

“Maybe he remembers something about Webber and his… condition.”

“I doubt it. They fucked with his head, remember? Yours too. I doubt the kid knows either.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Mr Higgsbury, might I have a word?” The scientist let out a sigh. Here came the next barrage of questions.

“Of course. Come in Mrs Wickerbottom.” The librarian pushed back the tent flap, taking a seat on the ground across from the other occupants.

“Should I bother asking you questions or should I get Willow to answer for you?” A sheepish blush spread across Wilson’s cheeks; his social abilities (or lack thereof) was not unknown to the rest of the survivors.

“I will do my best to answer them.” With a nod and a smile the elder took her glasses off and wiped the lenses against the fabric of her skirt.

“How do you know him?” He hesitated as Wicker but the glasses back on her face.

“Family matters.” She could see the apprehension in his face, there was much more to it than that.

“I doubt he was like this outside of The Constant.”

“He was human. Fully.”

“It seems the spider is alive and communicating with him.”

“W-what?”

“Oh shit, that’s fucked.”

“Language Willow.”

“Oh, sorry. But yeah. Holy crap. It’s talking to him?”

“I believe that’s the root of his animalistic behaviours. It looks to be some form of… symbiosis. The nature of which I’m not fully aware of yet.” Symbiosis. With a spider? A spider and a human? His poor boy… Stuck with that… thing. “We can only hope it’s not a parasitic symbiosis.”

“Can we just separate em?”

“I’m unsure. I think Wilson’s medical expertise will be critical in understanding exactly what’s going on here.” Nothing would come out of Wilson’s mouth. He didn’t know how to respond. What was he supposed to do? “You should talk to him tomorrow Wilson.” The child was terrified of him. _His_ child was terrified of him. Did he want to know who he was? What if Quinn had told the boy that his father was some kind of hero and he believed it? He’d just have to ask. He would need time to work up to it though.

~~~~~

A day passed before Wilson built up the courage to approach the child. Even with the low light of the setting sun, Wilson swore he saw the hairs on the child’s body stand up on end at the sight of him. There was tension in the air between them; Webber’s wide eyes staring into the scientist’s own. Where would he start? Why was he so terrible at this? Maybe he should have just avoided this and gone to Maxwell like he originally planned. “I uh… I apologise for my behaviour yesterday.” Webber blinked at him and then turned his focus to the bear Willow was letting him borrow. Why was he sorry? He wasn’t the one who bit someone.

“It’s okay… H-w-I'm sorry for biting you.”

“Apology accepted.” Wilson felt a little guilt as the child recoiled from him as he sat beside them. “How are you adjusting to… your condition?” The young boy looked up at the scientist, head cocked to the side. “I assume the spider is new. How do you feel about that?”

“I dunno. Scared.” With a nod, Wilson drummed his fingers against his own knee. Now what? Conversations about feelings were really not his thing. “Can I ask you a question mister?”

“Of course you can Webber!” Even without pupils Wilson could see the eyes flicker to the side within the boy’s skull, finally focusing back on him.

“How did you know my name? Why did you hug me?” Straight to the point. Wilson let out a sigh.

“Your mother’s family and mine knew each other.” Technically not a lie. Webber’s face seemed to light up a little.

“Do you know who my dad is?” Ah... A stabbing feeling emanated from the bottom of his diaphragm. Quinn had told him nothing at all. He shouldn’t feel dejected; he should have been pleased that there wasn’t some figure Webber believed his father to be or that he didn’t know about the reality of the situation. And yet... it hurt.

“I know him.”

“What was he like?” There seemed to be excitement in the boy’s voice, and that’s because there was. Webber had actually found someone who knew about him! It was like waiting for a picture to start, anticipation making the legs on his head twitch.

“Forgive me for responding with a question. But, what do you think he was like?”

“I don’t know, mum never told me. She said he was dangerous. We-I don’t care though. I just want him to fix whatever he did so mum can be happy again.” Nervousness began to flutter through Wilson. Him, dangerous? Maybe... Was Quinn really dolorous about the entire debacle? Wilson expected her to move on in an instant... he needed to change the subject.

“You keep changing how you talk about yourself. Ms Wickerbottom says that... the spider is talking to you?”

“Yes sir. Please mister, tell me what my father was like.” Webber held his breath as the man paused, a defeated look on his face. Why didn’t he want to tell him?

“Probably like everything your mother has told you.” A moment of silence passed between them, Webber’s expression furrowing a bit. “I’d like to take a closer look at your condition if that’s okay. See if I can separate you and the spider.”

“Can you do that?”

“I can try.”

 

Wilson tried to be as clear as possible to the young boy. This would not be pleasant. Webber was more than nervous when the man said he was going to look under his skin. But... he said he wouldn’t feel a thing. The voice inside his head screamed danger and the elderly woman tried her best to keep the boy calm as the sharp dart dug into his arm. The scientist was terrified that Webber would lash out and go into some sort of frenzy when he put the dart into their arm, alas he merely gave a snarl and flashed his fangs. (It could have been much worse.)

Something uneasy stirred inside Wilson as he held the razor over the arm of the boy. Everything was ready. There were healing salves and stitches, a silk bandage and a honey poultice. The wound wouldn’t even scar, he wasn’t going deep enough to cause a threat to the boy either. Yet he hesitated, voices from a decade ago screaming at him as if it was happening right now.

“Wilson the sooner we do this, the sooner we can find out whether it’s possible to separate them.”

“I know.”

“What’s the matter then? The child said it was okay, I doubt he wants to be like this. If we can help him, we should. We don’t know if it’s detrimental to his health yet, it might be a necessity to know if they are separate entities or not.”

“I know.”

“Then decide if we’re doing this or not because that dart won’t last forever.” Wilson looked up to meet Ms Wickerbottom’s eyes. She urged him to hurry, but not in a forceful manner. She was right. The dart would wear off and then they’d have more issues than just a simple surgery. Mentally shaking off the sound of Quinn in his mind, the scientist pressed the blade into the child’s arm. It was met with resistance, a form of exoskeleton he supposed. With a little more force the blade made its way to flesh, exposing the colour within. His observation from the other day was confirmed. Webber’s flesh wasn’t the usual amaranth colour that one would usually find upon dissection, no, it was more maroon. The blood coming from the wound itself was more burgundy than crimson too. The only odd colour flesh he’d seen previously was monster meat. The monsters around here tended to have a deep plum coloured flesh with blood just as vibrant and strange. What they used to carry oxygen, he had no idea, but it wasn’t haemoglobin. Webbers seemed to be a mix between the two, a hybrid. The layers of skin didn’t seem to separate either. The epidermis was fused to the harder exoskeleton layer and the dermis lead to the hypodermis, just like in any other person. Before he knew it, there was bone. That was it. No distinctions between spider and human. Would the body cavity show the same results? Were the organs separate? Did he have two sets of them? “What’s the verdict Wilson?”

“No distinguishable differences between the two. I don’t think there’s any way to separate them. Not with what we have here anyway.” Were there two brains? Would it be possible to just extract the spider’s?

Damn it Higgsbury.

Shaking his head Wilson began to stitch up the incision. This was a human (technically), not a lab rat. Even worse, this was his SON.

“That’s a shame. At least we tried.” The librarian didn’t miss the scientist’s silence and nervousness, but said nothing. Something big had happened between this man and the boy; surely this _family matter_ he spoke of didn’t go further than being closer than an uncle. Something deep within told her otherwise however. If he was the boy’s father surely, he would have said something. Then again, this was Wilson she was talking about; he voiced his concerns even less than he voiced safety precautions. She would try and ask Willow about the matter.

 

Once Wilson had finished, Wickerbottom told him to fetch Willow. It didn’t take long before the pyromaniac was in the tent, sitting back with her lighter flickering on and off in her lap.

“How’s the kid?”

“Should be fine, if not a little sore when he wakes up.” She nodded, glancing over the child.

“I’m guessing you wanted to talk to me about Wil?”

“I need to know more about the situation.”

“I sorta said I wouldn’t tell anyone anything.”

“So he told you more than just family matters?” Damn it. Willow frowned at the older woman, their lips twitching into a smile in response. She was sly, able to get the information she wanted without even asking. Willow kind of admired it, she was far too short-fused to do anything like that. Whoever she wanted to answer her would either tell her or have singed hair.

“Maybe.”

“Are they related by blood?”

“I can’t tell you Wick.”

“How close is the relation?”

“It’s not fair to go through me to get to Wilson. He trusts me and I don’t want to lose that.”

“Of course. My apologies. His behaviour is more concerning than usual is all. All I wish to do is be able to help.”

“You and me both Wick.” Both of the women’s attention went to the mass moaning in front of them. Webber began to stir, everything spinning as he sat up. **Pain. Defend!**  There were two figures with him. **Friend? Foe?**

“Webber dear, how is your arm?” It was Miss Wickerbottom’s voice. **Friend**. The final bits of sleep were lifting, the world around him stabilising. There was a bandage around his arm, a throbbing pain coming from under it.

“Hurts.”

“You’ll be alright. I have some hard candies hidden away in my tent if you’d like some.” Candy... Why did it feel like so long since he’d last had candy.

“Yes please.”

“Can I have candy too?”

“You didn’t have surgery Willow.”

“But I still want candy.” Webber smiled as Miss Wickerbottom rolled her eyes; the sight of the young child smiling made Willow smile. The spidery outside was creepy but it wasn’t hard to see the playful kid underneath. Willow knew exactly what it was like to be judged without a second chance. She just wished that Wilson would tell her what on earth he did to make this kid’s mother make him fuck off to America. Surely Wilson didn’t do anything to Webber, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to start commissions! I'll self-promoting myself for a while so sorry if you get sick of seeing this.  
> [Beta sheet for Commissions!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dara999/profile)
> 
> Also next chapter is a flashback I'm keen to share. Get excited peopleeeee!


	9. Fevers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dadson finally does something useful

* * *

It was hard to tell if the numbness was from the anxiety or the chill of the afternoon air. It was probably both. Nervousness consumed Wilson as the carriage ride came to a close, even more so as the servants began bringing his belongings inside the house. It wasn’t as large as his parent’s estate but it was more than enough for the two of them. The two stories seemed to tower over the young scientist, evening sun trying to push through and bring feeling back into his hands. It had been twenty-four hours and not a word between himself or Quinn was uttered. Now the two of them would be in a house, together, all day, every day. Quinn was firm with the servants, not even giving Wilson a second glance as she walked past the carriages and into the house. He followed, unsure of what to do with himself otherwise.

There was only one thing on Quinn’s mind and that was her son. He should be here with the babysitter by now. “Ella?”

“In here ma’am!” A grin crept onto her face as she headed through a hallway and into what seemed to be a living room. Sitting on a couch by a tea set was Ella, a bundle wrapped in her arms.

“Thank ya so much Ella.” Quinn scooped to bundle up in her arms, cooing to it softly. “Did ya miss me Webber? Did ya miss mummy?” The small mass gurgled, tiny limbs writhing against the fabric it was entombed in. “Did he eat well?”

“Yes ma’am. He didn’t like the formula at first, but he was hungry enough to take it eventually.”

“Webber ya silly lad. What’s not to like about cream and honey? It was only for a few days, I woulda thought it would be a treat for ya.” She brought the bundle to her face and nuzzled it with her nose, getting a giggle from the infant. “I’m not goin’ anywhere anytime soon, so it’s back to my milk ya spoilt thing.”

Wilson stood in the archway, curiosity tugging at him. He’d never actually seen the child that was supposedly his. It had all been speculation for him up until this point. The whole fiasco had taken months and yet he never saw the evidence. (Partly why he was furious with his parents to allow him to be married off.) Quinn turned to face Wilson, all hits of joy draining from her face. It was unnerving to see her switch between the two emotions so rapidly.

Quinn herself had no idea how to feel. This was it; the two of them in their house, married, with their child and neither of them would speak to one another. Something in his expression made her sneer. “What?” The man seemed to fidget nervously.

“Could I perhaps...” He outstretched his arms, looking at her son. The young scientist flinched as the woman let out a scoff.

“You're adamant about him not being yours, Mr Higgsbury. I don’t think ya have any right to hold him.” With an upturned nose, she walked past Wilson and ascended the stairs to see the bedrooms. If he didn’t want to take responsibility for the child then she wouldn’t let him have anything to do with her precious boy.

Meanwhile Wilson was a little shaken. Was this how she was going to be to him all the time? He didn’t want to be here either, it was not fair for her to take it out on him! Didn’t he deserve to see the evidence as to why he was here in the first place?! He wanted to give her a piece of his damned mind; but really, he knew she was just upset as he was and shouting wouldn’t fix anything. They both needed time to settle. Perhaps while she attended to her child, he would choose a room to use as his own.

~~~~~

After the first few days of unpacking, things began to settle down. The staff left were the bare minimum, mostly for upkeep of the house rather than personal servitude. Most nights Wilson did his best to try and distract himself. This wasn’t the easiest thing to do when the women he was supposed to be married to sobbed in the lounge room after putting her child to bed. What was he supposed to do? She hated him and he doubted that any attempt at comfort would go well. So he hid, locked away in his room, trying to figure out a way they could make this work.

 

This particular night Wilson had returned late after a trip into town for some new reading material. It seemed the staff had already left for their own quarters as the halls were unlit. There was a light coming from the living room however, flickering weakly from the table. Probably left by one of the staff by accident. As he went closer to the source of light, the sound of soft snores could be heard. Bringing the dwindling lantern on the table closer to the figure, he found it was Quinn. She was curled up, fully dressed in an upright position on the couch. It seemed she had passed out while relaxing. His first thought was to wake her or help her back to bed; realising how badly that might go he opted for fetching a blanket and putting it over her instead. A twinge of guilt filled him as he examined her. Dark bags were under her eyes, hair looking frazzled. Webber must have been unruly this afternoon. She must have been exhausted… Taking the lantern up the flight of stairs in the foyer, the young scientist headed to his bedroom. It was about time he attempted to get some sleep of his own.

Half-way to slumber a sound jolted Wilson awake. It was crying. Webber to be exact. He’d heard the sound many times, it irked him to no end. He would have to wake Quinn-no. He couldn’t wake her. She looked exhausted. Surely he could take care of it himself, how hard could comforting a baby be? Letting out a grunt, followed by a yawn, Wilson stood and went into Quinn’s room. Lighting a candle by the bed, Wilson approached the wailing child. Webber’s crib was laden with silks, draping over the apparatus like the dress Quinn had worn on their wedding day. The baby was wildly flailing its arms, screaming like a banshee. Wilson shushed the tiny human and picked it up, its cries wavering for a moment. As soon as he felt the surface temperature of the baby he could tell something wasn’t right. They were hot to the touch and it wasn’t even close to summer.

“No wonder you’ve killed your poor mother, you’re sick aren’t you?” It was no surprise they were wailing; they had no idea why they were feeling so rotten. What could he do about this? Bringing the fever down and alleviating the pain would be ideal. A small dose of some form of painkiller would be his best bet, there should be some in his room. Taking the disgruntled child with him, Wilson did his best to comfort them as he took out his medical supplies. Working by candle light he estimated how much such a minuscule body would need, probably around 100mg? He’d give a little less, just in case. Now the medication would just take time to kick in. “You’ve got quite a set of lungs for someone who’s been breathing for less than a year.” Its cries faltered for a fleeting moment before becoming babbling sobs. “Seems like you like to be talked to. I don’t talk all that much I’m afraid.” The young scientist sat down in one of the chairs in the room, bouncing the small mass gently. “I could tell you about science, I can talk forever about that.” It really did like to be talked to; its cries wavering yet again as Wilson spoke. A primal reaction he supposed, listening to the caregivers of the group. Its large eyes looked into his, red and wet from crying. Something fluttered within Wilson’s chest, a soft, warm feeling. Pushing that sensation away he turned his attention to the flickering light of the candle beside them. “I could start with the elements. Evolution is interesting, I personally agree with Mr Darwin on his theories. Human sociology and anatomy are going to be too advanced for you I fear; perhaps when you’re older you’d like to hear about it.” His gaze fell back onto the whimpering child. He was sure children wouldn’t be his forte and yet he felt at ease. Maybe because the baby couldn’t ridicule him for being such a failure. “All children love dinosaurs, alas I’m no palaeontologist. I could tell you about astronomy, space is also a very popular topic with youngsters.” Even if the child wasn’t his, he had to admit it was sort of intoxicating to interact with it. Was this what Quinn felt every time she held Webber? “I know a lot more about the stars than I do about old bones in the ground. We can start with the solar system, then I’ll tell you about the milky-way.”

Wilson let himself ramble until the child’s eyes closed and tiny snores came from them. It was so nice just to talk. It wasn’t important, nor would the infant remember anything he said; but after days of having said almost nothing, Wilson felt liberated. He had no idea what time it was, but he could feel his own eyes growing heavy. Fearing that moving would wake the sleeping baby, Wilson merely leant back in the chair, blew out the candle and held the baby closer, letting the lull of sleep take him.

~~~~~

Quinn actually felt well rested when the sunlight reached her eyes. Webber had kept her attention the whole of yesterday, either crying or feeding. Nothing she seemed to do would calm him. What made him so silent now? What was wrong?! Sitting up suddenly, she rushed upstairs and expecting the worst. Her fears were confirmed when the child wasn’t in his crib. Maybe one of the maids had taken him while she slept, he was crying all of yesterday and could have woken one of them during the night. Once again she rushed out of the room and searched for her son.

She’d never felt such panic; it was like someone had sucked the blood from her body, leaving nothing but a shell. None of the staff had seen her baby and they had the nerve to tell her to relax. Not only that but they said to ask Wilson of all people. He didn’t give a shit about her or her son! She didn’t even know if the bloody man was home half the time! She was out of options however and the only room she hadn’t checked was his. She could feel the anger boiling inside her as her hand wrapped around the door knob. _If she found him in there with his boy and hurt so much as a single hair on his head she would kill him then and there._ Quinn’s anger melted as she threw open the door. It felt like someone had dropped a lead ball into the most plush pillow on earth. He was asleep, Webber in his arms. This was not what she was expecting to see, not that she knew what lay behind the door; regardless, whatever she expected, it wasn’t this. A flurry of emotions whirled inside her. She wanted to cry. Why did she want to cry? That made no sense. Should she leave them? She should wake them? Should she take her son away from the man that denied his own blood?

Webber made the decision for her and began to stir, crying out into the dawn-filled room. The crying made Wilson jolt, lifting his head up and lazily opening his eyes. “No, shhhh. It’s too early for this. How does Quinn do this eve-“ The presence of another person became apparent the newly-awoken man, the fog of sleep lifting as he realised who it was. Oh no. She was going to kill him for touching her offspring. Wilson’s instincts told him to drop the offending item but thankfully his common sense won that battle and the child stayed in his arms. Standing, he held the swaddled infant out to their mother. Her face was impossible for him to read as she took Webber from his arms. Was she angry? Didn’t seem like it. Upset? Maybe. Did she even care?! WHAT WAS IT WOMAN?! “He has a fever. You were exhausted. So, I, uh.” He scanned the room for anything he could use to diffuse the situation. The child’s medication! Yes! Reaching for the work done the previous night, he brings a handful of white chalky chunks wrapped in a piece of cloth and puts them into the palm of the stark woman in front of him. “This is far too much and should last him a few days. He should be better by then. Keep him hydrated and only one of these every six hours, eight if his mood permits.” Giving a sheepish smile he wormed past her, muttering excuse me as he did.

Quinn only stared as Wilson made his way down the stairs and ducked towards the kitchen. It was only once he was out of sight that she became acutely aware of Webber’s cries. Kicking into gear she took the infant to her room and began to feed it, all the while looking at the pouch of medication he handed her. He was right, Webber was warm, but she couldn’t cure a fever. She would… give Webber what Wilson had given her, to help him feel better.

As the baby suckled from his mother, her mind wandered. Surely there was some kind of ulterior motive behind Wilson’s actions. He’d shown how adamantly he did not believe the child was his and yet he took care of it to let her sleep? It didn’t make sense. But… there were things he said that pointed toward him caring, even if the child wasn’t his. He left the carriage on the ride home, had given her space, slept in a separate room down the hall and repetitively told her how he didn’t agree with the situation but did nothing to provoke or aggravate her. In fact; she’d been the one provoking him. All she had thought about was her own happiness and let herself be blinded by her anger at him refusing to take responsibility for Webber’s conception. He was probably as distraught as she was and all she did was treat him like shit.

This wasn’t the first arranged marriage in history, nor would it be the last. Maybe things could work between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting through some stuff irl.
> 
> Feel free to find me on Insta or Tumblr as Megadara999 if you wanna chat.


	10. The Indigestible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten-year-old boy turns out not to be a delicious snack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are again.  
> It's always such a pleasure.

* * *

Everything was dark. But there was a somewhat familiar voice in the dark. Something about night? With a hand on his spinning head, Webber sat up. Squinting heavily, he did his best to look around. How did he get here? Where exactly was here? Did he get lost in the woods and fall asleep without remembering? 

“Hello?” Nothing. “Is anyone there?” The only thing that responded was a far-off crow. The silence scared him, the idea of being lost was terrifying. His mother must be so worried. “Mum?!” The ten-year-old could feel his heart in his chest as he looked for any sign of home. He’d never been this lost before. 

His mother had told him to follow the sunset until he reached the river if he ever got lost, so that’s what he would do. Eventually he would run into the river and that river would lead him home. One way the river would lead to their property fence and he could follow that until he found the driveway; the other way would lead to a river-bend, which would lead to a funny shaped rock that was in line with the house. One way or another he would find his way home, even if it was scary.

 

By sunset there was still no sign of the river. There had been water, sure, but not the river he knew of. Was their property even this big? Webber was pretty sure he had seen most of the property. He'd spent hours climbing the trees and catching bugs. (Much to his mother’s disproval.) Hunger gnawed at his stomach, letting out a low growl. He needed something to eat, anything. While walking he’d seen berries and carrots. Mother told him not to eat strange berries, or to eat carrots without washing them first, but he was  _so_  hungry. Hesitantly Webber put them in his mouth. The small red berries were delicious and juicy, even if they didn’t fill him up much. The carrot was better, even if it wasn’t clean. Hopefully his mother wouldn’t be mad at him. Chewing his carrots hungrily, the boy comes across a thin looking man, laying on the ground. Finally, someone! Running over with a grin Webber tugs on their arm. “Hello?” The man didn’t move, or talk. He just lay there. “Are you alright?” Again, nothing. Maybe he was sleeping? He did seem to be missing his insides. “Stay here mister, when I find your pieces you can help me find home. Okay?” He was  _not_  very talkative. A bag lay beside the bony man, its contents spilled across the grass. “You dropped your stuff sir.” Webber would help him pick it up. It seemed to mostly be logs and some rope. Placing it all back in the bag, Webber placed it next to the man. “There. I’ll go find your insides now and then you can talk to me.” 

As the sunset began to disappear, panic began to fill Webber's chest again. He didn’t want to be stuck in the dark by himself. On Winter nights his mother would light the hearth in the living room with a tinderbox, but he didn’t have a tinderbox or a fireplace. Webber heard you could start a fire with other sticks by rubbing them together, a trick his mother said he would learn in scouts. Even though he’d never done it, the boy had a gut feeling that this was the right thing to do. Swiftly he gathered some sticks and grass, piling them together, then he rubbed the sticks against one another as fast as he could. It took a number of tries but the boy eventually got it, a tiny ember growing as it spread across the grass. Taking one of the logs from his new friend’s bag, the child placed it on the fire to give it more food. Darkness fills the area around the flame’s glow, sending a chill up the young boy’s spine. Nothing felt right here. (Wherever here was.) He missed his mother. He missed her lunches and dinners. He missed her gentle touch. Her sweet words. His bed. His nightlight. His home. A choked sob escapes the child’s lips as he brings his knees up to his chest. Warm tears escape from his eyes as his sobs turn into wails. He just wanted to go home! He just wanted his mother!

 

The sound of birds tweeting wakes Webber from the depths of sleep. A headache throbbed behind his eyes, body stiff from the cool air of the night. He was still here with his new friend Mr. Bones (a name he came up with until Mr. Bones could tell him his real name), who was staring blankly up at the sky. It hadn’t all been a bad dream, it was all real. The urge to cry welled up inside the small child once again but he pushed through it to continue following the sunset. He  _needed_  to get home and this was the only way he knew how to do that. Why did he even leave? Memories of something fuzzy sit in the back of his mind, remembering them was like looking through a thick fog. He remembered fighting with his mum, a radio, then hiding and then something black and scary. The thought unsettles Webber; that big and black object made him shudder. What exactly happened? 

 

~~~~~ 

 

On the evening of the third day Webber was sure he was lost forever. He’d followed the sunset for three whole days and nothing seemed familiar. He’d even walked past some weird hairy cows! They didn’t have cows! (But they had a few goats.) He was hungry and alone. Sniffling, the boy sits against a tree and brings his legs up to his chest. Maybe he should have stayed where he woke up and waited for his mother to come find him. His legs were sore and stiff from walking all day. Mother would be waiting for him with a warm bath and a hot meal if he were home. But he wasn’t at home, he was in the middle of who knows where. 

A low hiss comes from nearby, something the ten-year-old hadn’t heard before. Was that a snake? A cat? Peering around the trunk of the tree Webber finds something large and furry. It was a cat! His grand-dad had a cat! Pursing his lips together, he calls the feline with kisses. “Here kitty-kitty.” The cat turns to him and hisses again, in that moment Webber can see that it is  **not**  a cat. His eyes widen as the animal runs forward. It was black, hairy and had too many eyes and legs. It was by far the biggest spider he’d ever seen. “You’re huge!” The animal bares its teeth at the boy, that was usually a sign that animals wanted to bite. (He’d been too friendly with his grand-dad’s cat before and had to learn that the hard way.) Pushing off the tree, Webber stands and runs against his stiff joints as it snaps at his ankles. “Bitting is mean!” Putting distance between him and the spider, he weaves in and out of trees. It was slower than him at least, so he didn’t have to run too har- 

Before he could finish his thought, something causes Webber to trip. As he pushes off the ground his body tries to stick to it. What was this? The ground was covered in a fine shiny material, draped over the grass like a carpet. It was almost like a spider web... But spiders didn’t have webs on the ground, right? More hisses come from beside him, a large coil of web sat in the centre of the sticky carpet, more of the big spiders coming from it. Getting off of the web was hard, every step stuck to the ground. One of the spiders latch onto his leg, causing the young boy to cry out. Falling onto his behind, Webber shakes the animal off, tears starting to stream from his eyes. Grabbing hold of a stick he uses it to hit the other spiders away as he gets up. Eventually he finds himself getting off of the sticky webbing and back into the trees. Heart racing, he can feel his entire body tighten with panic, the bite on his leg throbbing. Within moments he’d managed to find another one of those web-piles. This must be the wrong way. But there was another and then another. There was a huge ring of them and he was in the centre. Hisses come from every direction, black blurs moving in the shadows of sunset. Everywhere he looked there were spiders, then his eyes fell upon the biggest spider of them all. At first the boy thought it was just one of those web piles, but it had a face and legs. It towered above the others, above him. The tears blurred his vision as he looks frantically for a way out. He needed to get out of here! The smaller spiders are between him and freedom. “GO AWAY!” The giant spider nears him, close enough for him to see the goo dripping from its mouth. As he tries to push past the smaller spiders they hiss and nip at him. Hot breath hits the back of his neck and everything goes dark. The dark was wet and warm and smelt of rot. 

 

**~~~~~**

 

In the darkness, Maxwell tries to restart the boy’s run only to find he can’t. He was eaten alive by the Spider Queen, how did he still persist? Days past before They finally let him start again, but They also told him the boy died of starvation. That was impossible. The survivors were more than predictable, the whole debacle had become boring really. Curiosity beckoned Maxwell to materialise beside the Spider Queen. It seemed she had also perished. Curiouser and curiouser. With the wave of his hand the belly of the beast is split open by shadows, the contents pouring out onto the savannah. What a disgusting mess... It seems the Queen’s young had tried to eat their way out of their mother, a number of them spilling out of her gut. The keystone of this grotesque inquiry however was the boy. He definitely seemed malnourished. Some of the queen’s young had attempted to use the boy as a food source, his arms littered with puncture marks. But it seemed he had tried to use them as a food source as well, one of them was still latched onto his arm, its carapace split open and the boy’s face sprinkled with violet. What a peculiar situation. 

Their voices feed whispers through the king’s mind.  **_It seemed the boy was indigestible. A first and certainly a last. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d mixed two things together. Hopefully it would solve this little problem of being indigestible as well._ ** 

Such a vulgar idea. The king refused to bring the human back like that. He wasn’t a good man but he wasn’t evil. He’d already done so much of what They wanted. He brought people for Their amusement, gave Them ideas to create, a world to play with. He drew the line at messing with the humans directly. It wasn’t his place to actually change the people he brought here.  **_Get someone else to_ ** **_bring him back_ ** **_for us then._ ** 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short one! I wanted this scene to be a single chapter.
> 
> It's so nice to be writing again.  
> I was gonna post this earlier but then my birthday happened and I was busy.  
> Happy holidays everyone!


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